


Hear Me Howl

by dearjayycee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: I tried to make it not to graphic but it does happen, Kidnapping, M/M, Torture, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, doesn't really go into sterek more so just derek being there for stiles after everything happens, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 11:05:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2022801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearjayycee/pseuds/dearjayycee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stupid fucking hunters, and their stupid fucking code that they never seem to actually follow. Stiles had been feeling paranoid for weeks, and finally the asshat who had been stalking him kidnapped him. Apparently the hunter had wanted to get to Lydia, had heard a rumor about a banshee and thought it would be a great asset or trophy. And being the token human in the pack, well one that didn't wield an awesome bow, he seemed to be the best target to try and get at the pack through. Whatever. He choose the wrong fucking person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hear Me Howl

**Author's Note:**

> So this was a prompt someone left me on [my Sterek porn blog](http://sterekpornblog.tumblr.com)  
> There is no porn in this though. It's more of just Stiles being reunited with the pack and his family after being kidnapped and tortured.

Fuck, fuck, fuck...his whole body hurt; it felt broken and bruised. Every breath he took made his muscles scream and his skin feel like it was about to rip apart. His mind kept slipping, in and out of darkness.  Each time he did he would then be forced into consciousness with cold water or a hard slap. 

 

              “Wake up you stupid fucking slut,” a hard hand hit against his cheek and he felt hot liquid start to drip down from his nose. It fucking hurt but it was just added to the rest of the pain.

 

              “I’m not a slut,” his voice was rough, raw from being dry from lack of water and his screaming. Stiles wanted to add that the name was wrong because he was a virgin and even if he wasn’t that slut shamming was stupid but he neither had the energy or was under any illusion that he might be able to change this man’s mind about anything.

 

              The man hit his bare back with something made from leather and from the feel of it there would be a huge welt left on his back. He tried to focus on his toes, trying to get his mind away from the pain.  “I bet you let that alpha of yours mount you like the whore you are.” The man hit his back again, this time the end licked the back of his neck; it felt like fire. He screamed out from the pain. “I bet you pant for it,” The man sounded disgusted; it made Stiles’ skin crawl as the man got close again. His voice came out as a low rumble, “Now tell me…Who is the banshee?” The man was obviously trying to command the answer from Stiles. But Stiles knew what a real command sounded like. Years of the pack growing stronger and stronger, the loyalty they had to each other, that had taught him what an actual command felt like. Nothing was going to make him give up Lydia. He would die before he did that.

 

              The man, well Stiles was just going to call him asshat, stuck a cattle prod he got from somewhere to his bare ass. The shock went through him, all his nerves shocked alive until his brain went blank and his vision went white around the edges before blacking out again.

 

             He woke up again while feeling like his body was stretched too far. His entire body weight was hanging from his shoulders because his toes barely reached the floor. Hoping to get some relief, Stiles gripped the chain, hands shaking, and pulled his body up as far as he could. His hope to relieve some of the pain failed. His muscles were too sore and his weight dropped, pulling both of his arms out of their sockets.

 

             His head fell back, jaw dropping open, and a long high pitch howl tore itself from his chest. Stiles’ mind automatically went to all the nature documentaries he had seen to place the sound he had instinctively made. The cry of the lost wolf. He wanted to laugh, or more likely cry. He started to go limp, body giving up on trying to go on.

 

              Stiles started to black out again…Then he heard it. A blood-curdling howl. He smiled, knowing that help was on the way. Asshat came running out of the other room, panicked, with a gun in his hand. Stiles had enough strength to speak, taking joy in his tormenter’s fear. “You captured the wrong fucking human.”

 

              With almost all of his strength gone, his vision was fading in and out as a giant being swept inside of the room, dodging all the bullets flying it’s way. Stiles grinned as Derek ripped into the man, body nearly tearing in two.

 

              Stiles relaxed, letting himself finally, truly, drift into a safe unconsciousness.

 

              He woke up screaming from his shoulders being forced back into place. He quickly passed out again.

 

            The next time Stiles woke the sickly clean scent of hospital assaulted him. His eyes opened slowly and found the light too harsh. His dad noticed he was awake and quickly helped him lean forward slightly, allowing Stiles to drink some water in hurried gulps. His throat felt like sandpaper. It wasn’t exactly healthy to do that but his throat was so dry, Stiles just wanted a little relief.

 

            When his father rested him back into the pillow Stiles stared up at him. He hated the new gray hairs he saw; the pale, paper thin skin with giant bags under tired eyes. The worst part was that his father was smiling. It made Stiles want to throw up. Though maybe that wasn’t just because of his father. His father knew him, and his facial expressions, well enough to rush a trashcan under his chin. All that came up was water and bile. After he finished Stiles sagged back, feeling worse than he did while being tortured.

 

            His father just rubbed at his shoulder, trying to help him feel better. “I’m sorry dad…” His own voice was small, still shaky.

 

            Stiles was suddenly wrapped up in a hug and he relaxed into the warmth. His father ran his fingers through his hair. It felt greasy, meaning it had been a few days, with the large hand cradling the back of his skull. He felt like a kid again. Well he technically was still a kid and he was sure his father would always see him as that no matter how old he got anyway. “I’ve got you kiddo.”

 

            Tears started to roll down his cheeks; he couldn’t even help the sob that ripped itself from his chest. He had tried so hard to be strong when he was held captive. He couldn’t let the hunter see any of his weakness'; he knew they would be exploited. Stiles had tried so hard to ignore what was going on, tried to stay tough so that he could protect the pack. He had to prove himself. And breaking down now, he realized how misguided the thought had been. He survived. He was a survivor. And he was damn fucking proud of himself.

 

            “It’s okay kid, let it out.” The sheriff held him tighter, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulled Stiles into his lap slightly, the pain in his ribs making him cry harder but he wouldn’t back way from his dad to get rid of the pain.  “I’m here; no one is going to get you.” This was the safest he had felt in weeks, since the rogue hunter had first come into town and started stalking him, every turn he took leaving him paranoid. “I love you.”

 

            It took him a while to calm back down, too tired after that to do anything but fall into an empty sleep. No dreams, no nightmares, no waking up to electricity, hard slaps, or ice cold water. It was utter bliss.

 

            His father was still sitting in the chair by his bed when he woke back up, head hanging over the back of the chair in a horrible position, mouth open, with the same clothes on. There was a knock at the door and Stiles knew it had to have been one of the werewolves to have such perfect timing.

 

            “Come in,” his voice was raspy and it woke up his father who stiffly tried to stretch his neck to get rid of the soreness.

 

            Scott and Melissa walked in. She first checked up on Stiles before she let Scott get anywhere near him, and when she seemed content with his healing process she forced the sheriff up and out of the room. She had decided that he needed to go home to take a shower, nap, and change into a new set of clothes. Stiles was so thankful for her. She always made sure to take care of his dad when Stiles couldn’t.

 

            Scott rushed up to the side of his bed, forcing his face against the side of Stiles neck, one hand clasped on his wrist to leech the pain away. Stiles wanted to push Scott off, always hated being scent marked. They all thought they were sneaky but they weren’t. But he also knew Scott got angsty when anyone in the pack “smelt wrong.” Derek had tried to explain it and Stiles got it more than he thought Derek did. He knew Scott, always knew he was clingy after his father left. They hardly ever went a few days without seeing each other and Scott, once bitten, need that proof through smell too. So Stiles got it.

 

              Scott slowly backed away, sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his thumb over Stiles pulse point in his wrist. He was casually talking to him like nothing was wrong, avoiding the elephant in the room. Telling him all the stuff he had missed over the long week he had been missing. Finally he frowned, staring out the window. “I’m so sorry,” Stiles knew that quiver. Impending tears. “We tried so hard…we couldn’t smell you…couldn’t hear you. And you were so close.” Stiles pulled him in, hugging him.

 

            Stiles was used to this. Being Scott’s rock. He had missed it.

 

            They pulled away after a moment and laughed it off a bit. Scott suddenly sat up straight and stared at the room’s door. Derek walked in, looking to Scott who gave Stiles one last hug before walking out of the room, saying he was going to go get Stiles some real food. Bless him.

 

            Derek stood for a while, quietly staring at Stiles who started to drift off from exhaustion in the silence. Derek then took the seat his father had previously occupied. He rested his hand against Stiles’, leeching pain that Scott had left behind, or caused by his smothering hug, Stiles really couldn’t tell at this point. It didn’t honestly matter. When Derek pulled his pain he always felt like he was floating; it was different from all the others when they took pain from him and not in a good way. It was like losing touch with his body, which he hated. But this time it was nice.

 

            “Next time you think someone is following you, tell us.” Derek growled, voice harsh but the hand that held his was gentle.

 

            “I promise, grumpy wolf. Cross my heart and hope to die.” Derek frowned at the last bit and Stiles realized his mistake quickly, shrugging to brush off his words. Derek just turned away, a pained look on his face. Stiles squeezed the fingers tangled with his. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

 

            Derek smiled bitterly; Stiles huffed before moving to his side carefully, mindful of his ribs, and then feebly tugged on Derek’s arm to get him to come closer. He came, although faking unhappiness the entire time. He moved himself into Stiles’ space, before arranging the injured man until he was contently lying against Derek’s chest. It had taken some work to get both of them to fit on the bed, including Stiles feeling more pain but Derek just held his hand to leech the pain out again.

 

            “Thank you for saving me…”

           

            Derek looked him over as if he had lost his mind. Like leaving him for dead had never even crossed the werewolf’s mind. Not saving Stiles had never been an option on the table. It made Stiles’ heart flutter.

 

            He felt drowsiness slip back into his body, pulling him down into sleep.

 

            Stiles turned his head slightly until he could press his chapped lips against the scruff of Derek’s beard that was so thick it meant he probably hadn’t shaved the whole time Stiles was missing. “Stay with me, sourwolf?”

 

              “Okay.”

 

              “Promise?”

 

              “I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it and if you did please leave kudos and comments they make me smile. Also I am taking prompts at the moment on my sterek porn blog.  
> [sterekpornblog.tumblr.com](http://sterekpornblog.tumblr.com)


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